Portrait of Ruin
by mmp89
Summary: The story of a vigilante who seeks to protect Detroit, the victims of OCP's tyranny and the cops caught in the middle.
1. Chapter 1

**Woodbridge**

_Nothing…_

_Nothing…_

_There was nothing left._

A scorched heap of acrid rubble gently allowing small wisps of billowing smoke up into the air, a few broken belongings and a splatter of matted, maroon coloured blood. But that was nothing.

He had lived alone in his small corner of the building, but there had been whole families in others. Homes destroyed. Lives ruined. Memories vanished. He had no life or memories but cried for the loss of others'.

He knelt on the broken sidewalk, littered with cracks like a complex web. Pipes exposed, water still gushing from some. It would soon be cleared away, along with the nothingness of the building. Goodbye, Detroit.

The now homeless man wandered the streets, once bustling with life but not as desolate as the remotest desert. Oh there was life here, but as with the deserts, it was hidden away. Away from the criminals who oft roamed as he did. But he was not a criminal. He would not take advantage of these poor souls and the lack of Police recourse. And he would not hide with them either. He would protect them. He had nothing else to live for. There was nothing else _to_ live for.

He had deliberated on applying for his old job at PD Metro West but thought better of it. It was the bastion of a corporation now. A corporation which was destroying the city he sought to protect. It was not worth becoming a target for the maniacal scum of the city whilst being threatened by the chanting masses. _Scab! Scab! Scab!_ That badge may as well be a bullseye.

"Frank!" a voice whispered to his right. A bruised, bloody hand grabbed the material of his jacket. _Sarah_. He had walked right past her. He turned his head towards her, but all he saw was her arm, protruding from the collapsed ruin of another home. "Sarah?" he shouted, and started excavating the rubble around her hand. He could see her face through a much smaller gap but hardly recognised it, a congealed mess of blood and bone.

"Oh my god, Sarah…" he whispered, clasping her hand in his, "what happened?"

Her words came slow and jilted, interwoven with sporadic coughs. "When we got the eviction order we made a stand… a few of us tenants in the building. It wasn't even about the order! We needed more time. We thought we'd get it. The man in the hard hat told us to leave. We didn't. And he…" Another cough halted her voice. "I'm going to get you out of here", said Frank.

He took off his jacket and laid it on the pavement and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. It was easier than he had anticipated. Concrete blocks, plaster, steel and wood were removed quickly and violently. One block even hit a rare passing car – "You fucking asshole", the angry driver shouted, but his overall indifference proved the car was stolen.

Sarah, his friendly neighbour, was a mess and Frank couldn't stop himself from shaking. He lifted her limp body; limp but still alive; from the murderous rubble and laid her on his jacket. Her eyes were open but unfocussed. "Stay with me, Sarah", he said and hoisted her, wrapped in his jacket, into his arms. He then ran. The hospital was far.

His chest grew tighter and he struggled to keep up his breathing as he ran. She couldn't die. She couldn't die for this.

"Thank you", she whispered into his here, "but it's okay."

"No", he shouted and kept running.

The hospital was crowded and busy. Nurses and doctors appeared and disappeared in flashes, receptionists ran and dying patients lay quiet on trolleys in the corridors.

"Help me!" he shouted. He knew it was too late, but told himself otherwise. Bowie played softly on the radio.

_Sailors fighting in the dance hall!_

Nobody was coming. "Help me!" he screamed!

_Oh man! Look at those cavemen go,  
it's the freakiest show…_

A doctor rapidly writing in a notepad at the reception desk, poised to run off again, spotted him. She ran over.

_Take a look at the Lawman,  
beating up the wrong guy._

On the floor, she examined Sarah… on the floor. She shook her head and then beckoned over someone to help her bring the body away. As she left, she mouthed the word _sorry._

_Oh man! Wonder if he'll ever know,  
he's in the best selling show._

Frank screamed, but amidst the chaos not one person noticed.

_Is there life on Mars?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Woodbridge**

He could feel her, in his jacket. He could feel her warmth. And blood. He could feel her last essence of life.

Frank hadn't known Sarah that well. She was a popular and friendly woman who lived on his street. She was married, had kids. Where were they, Jonathan and Trisha? Where was her husband, Mark? He didn't know. But he would find them.

And find those responsible for her death.

In a city full of murderers, this still seemed like a horrible injustice.

**Detroit Metro West Police Department**

"Fuck you, OCP scum!"

"Scabs!"

Officer Barry Henderson ignored the taunts from the angry picketers. His suspect laughed quietly as he was dragged along. "Not too popular, are you?" he said, wiping a bubble of blood from his nose.

"Just doing my job; scraping shitbags like you off the street". Henderson moved through the baying mob, most of whom were merely feigning anger. He knew them well and most of them would be still working, protecting Detroit, despite their dispute with OCP.

_Omni Consumer Products, you're really fucking up this city, ain't ya?_

Officer Michelle Smith opened the large doors at the front of the building, and stood against one, keeping it open. "Come on, Henderson! There ain't enough of us working for you to be fucking around", she shouted. Henderson's suspect, a criminal known as "Crow", laughed once more. "_Real_ popular", he snarled. "Just shut the fuck up", Henderson said angrily and punched Crow in his face. Crow fell completely to the ground and Henderson continued to drag him.

"Oh for fuck's sake", said Smith, and dragged the body with him. "I can fucking handle it, you know!" said Henderson. "Oh I know", said Smith, "But we don't have time for this. So quit prancing around like a fucking pony, newbie".

The foyer of Metro West PD had become a gigantic holding room. Bruised and battered criminals lined the walls, handcuffed to radiators, railings and other temporary fixings. The cells themselves were packed. It was inhumane but necessary. "Reed will be happy I got this asshole", said Henderson, "He's a wanted man, ain't ya, ya little bitch". Henderson threw Crow against the reception desk. "I'm sure he'll be ecstatic, but we're in a little bit of a situation here, or hadn't you fucking noticed", said Smith, and began checking Crow for weapons.

"He's clean. We'll have to throw him in a cell for now."

"Don't try and pull any shit, Crow", warned Henderson, and pushed him off as Smith dragged him towards one of the less-full cells. Officer Anne Lewis came in through the side door, pulling a struggling man in a headlock with her. "Need any help, honey", shouted Henderson. "Fuck you", she said. She hit the guy in his face with her elbow and cuffed him to a radiator.

Sergeant Reed emerged from the corridor, "Listen up. We've got a situation in Midtown. Some gangs are tearing the place up. There's not many of them, but they're heavily armed and extremely dangerous. We're going to need most of you on this. C'mon, move it people". "Shit, don't we get five minutes rest?" asked Smith, who had since returned from locking up Crow.

"When these bastards get back to work, yes. But for now, you got to work, okay? The city's in a bad enough state without having what few remaining cops bail too".

"Sarge! I don't have a car. It _was_ being repaired but I got nothing", said Henderson.

"Lewis, take Henderson", said Reed. "Can't he just take another?" she replied in defiance. "No. We've got too few as it is without losing some more to maniacs with heavy weaponry. Be careful out there".

"I'm driving, hot shot", said Lewis, pushing Henderson away from the driver's door. "You did good today, but you're still a newbie and this is still my car", she said. "Don't you usually ride with the Robo, anyway?" said Henderson, sitting down in the passenger's seat and shutting the door.

"Yeah, but he's being sorted out. They've been working him too hard and too long. Minor repairs, recharging and touching up. He'll be back on duty in a few hours. Oh, and his name is Murphy", she said, driving the squad car up the ramp and out of the police station.

"Murphy? What a stupid name to give to a fucking robot", said Henderson whilst inserting a cartridge into his gun.

"He's a person. His name is Murphy", she said. "Whatever. Do we have anything heavier than this?" asked Henderson. "A couple of automatics in the back. Nothing too powerful and we should be able to take these thugs without them. We're not going in guns blazing, okay? The others know the drill and you better keep in line", Lewis said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rehabilitation Concepts, Detroit**

"Straight from The Old Man's office", said Mr. Burrows.

Incident Commander Clarence Whittaker protested, "These men aren't cops, Mr. Burrows. We are not the police!" Burrows ignored him and continued scrawling on his clipboard. He didn't look at the short man with mousey hair and a white coat before him, but said, "It's not your call. It's not my call. You are the police now". Whittaker stared at the executive in disbelief.

"Why not get Military Concepts or some other branch?" he asked in protestation.

"The army? _Please._ It'd cause utter chaos on the streets. The city is in crisis but putting our soldiers on the street is as good as the country putting its own. We need to be visibly in control. You are the replacement cops and you'll do as you're told. I'm sorry, John, but as I said, it's from The Old Man himself".

"Look, Mr. Burrows…" began Whittaker. "Just leave it, Clarence", said Burrows, "You've got to be careful. I shouldn't tell you this but some of the board are urging others to vote to replace you with McDaggett, so I'd stay in line if I were you".

"McDaggett? From Military? We are not an army and we are not the police, Mr. Burrows. We have been charged with helping people leave their homes, something which Building Concepts seemingly won't allow us to do most of the time, and now you're turning us into some sort of police force because you won't pay the real police?" Whittaker shouted.

"Look, _Clarence_", said Burrows, now angry, "set the wheels in motion or I'll get McDaggett in here myself".

**Midtown**

The black DPD squad car rolled to a silent stop. "Just round the corner, Henderson, and we're going in covertly", said Lewis, loading her pistol and placing it in her holster. She then checked her vest and helmet and got out of the car. Henderson followed suit and as he closed the door, two more black squad cars parked beside them. Smith rolled down her window, "Burke and Johnson are at the next corner. I'm going to go there two. Trap them in", she said and drove around to the next street.

Lewis leant against the wall of the corner building. There were 6 men causing the disturbance. It was mindless destruction without logic or reason. This wasn't a particularly commercialised area, mainly office buildings with contents of little value. It was also deserted. Lewis didn't understand the reason for the violence. "I don't like this", she said, "No, there's something not right".

She returned to the car and unclipped the radio from the dashboard.

"All units: hold back. I repeat, hold back", she said. "What the hell?" asked Henderson in surprise, "They're right over there and we outnumber them!" Lewis shook her head and sat in the car, radio still in her hand. It made a buzz sound and then the voice of Michelle Smith replied, "We're all ready, Lewis, and we're going in. Can't hold back because you've got the jitters. Reed sent us here, not you".

"Damn it, Smith", said Lewis, "Hold back. There's something not right", but Henderson seemed to be of the same opinion as Officer Smith. "I'm going in". He took his pistol out of his holster and leant in the exact same spot as Lewis.

"Freeze!" shouted a voice from the other side of the alley. It was Smith. She was pointing her gun at one of the criminals whilst still mostly concealed behind a building. One of the men, a large African-American dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt laughed. "Sure honey", he said. One of the other men sniggered and continued to throw petrol bombs at the wall, which had seemingly no effect other than to increase a blackened coating.

Henderson emerged from the behind wall, as did three other officers from Smith's side of the street. "You are under arrest", Henderson said. The man throwing the petrol bombs, who was extremely large and had a bald head turned around to Henderson. He sniggered again and threw another bomb against the wall whilst still facing Henderson. "You goin ta take me in, are ya?" he said. He reached for a gun protruding from his trouser pocket. "Stop!" said Henderson. The man continued to reach for his weapon and withdrew it. "Throw it on the ground", ordered Henderson. The man merely grinned. Most of the other men seemed to be doing nothing.

The man started to raise the gun towards Henderson who panicked and squeezed his trigger. The bullet hit the man in the chest. He stepped back with the force, but was uninjured. "What the fuck?" began Henderson, but he never finished his sentence. Almost simultaneously, 5 bullets, one for each of the 5 officers in the street, were fired and instantly took out their targets. Lewis, who was on the next street, observing the action and convinced there was something wrong, ran towards her car and started shouting for help in the radio. She stopped; there was nobody left to send. There were still a dozen or so cops on duty, but they were unreachable. She was on her own and cornered by people determined to drastically lower the cop population.


End file.
